A Thousand & One Caribbean Nights
by magik-blood
Summary: Jack Sparrow is injured in the fight for the trident and is taken ashore by Henry and Carina. Though, Henry has second thoughts after remembering Jack's off-color remarks about his mother... (aka Elizabeth brings back "old Jack") Sparrabeth, rated for language and themes
1. rain

_**. A Thousand & One Caribbean Nights .** _

While up aloft, in storm, from me his absence mourn,

And firmly pray, arrive the day, he never more to roam.

* * *

 _1 . rain_

* * *

"If he's dead I say we throw him overboard! What is he but a sodding drunk?" Carina haughtily asked Henry, looking down to the recently collapsed Jack Sparrow on deck of the Black Pearl.

Henry narrowed his brow, glancing to her, "He's more than that… I think?"

Henry looked back down to the unmoving pirate. Truthfully, he still was not convinced it was Jack Sparrow. The way his mother spoke of the famed pirate Captain always made him sound gallantly inhuman. A rogue, incapable of defeat, with the wit of the devil himself.

A being who bested death and sea monsters on the regular. A pirate who, somehow, acquired a curse from every legendary figure at sea. Henry had thought of him as a myth… That was, until he met the foppish, middle-aged man, face to face.

True, as Jack stood in that cell pant-less, reeking of whiskey and… several other unpleasant things, he was a ghost of his former self. And, perhaps experiencing a sense of DeJa Vu to be before a young man claiming to be of Turner lineage.

All though, considering all he had gone through in the past, he was lucky to be standing at all.

Carina looked to Henry as he stared to Jack. She frowned, realizing Henry seemed to be slightly saddened by the sight.

"Not that I particularly… _care_ , or anything…" she began, seeming to struggle to find the correct words.

Henry eyed her. If there was anything he knew about the young woman, it was her vigor for correctness.

"But, what does Jack Sparrow mean to you?" she asked, carefully. "If you don't mind telling me."

Henry blinked, "I couldn't really say. When I was a child, my mother told me stories of him. They inspired me to consider a life at sea."

"Stories?" she asked, "Consisting of krakens, mermaids, and Davey Jones, no doubt?"

"Actually… yes. That about covers it."

She crossed her arms as Jack's ship mates dragged him down the steps of the Pearl to the Captain's quarters and Gibbs declared himself head of the ship, once more.

"While the Captain rests I'll be taking over!" he shouted as the men scurried around him, "Now back to work, and ready the sails! Let us escape these cursed waters!"

Henry leaned against the railing of the ship as Carina did the same.

"I don't understand you," he began, "after all you've seen, you still scoff at my interests?"

She frowned, "Oh… I don't know what to believe anymore. I think my neck actually did snap, and you didn't save me, after all. That, in fact, I am dead and trapped in some horrible world where nothing is logical."

"Or, maybe you've just entered the true world, for the first time in your life."

She scowled to him, "I think I've been a member of a very real world my whole life, thank you."

"Really? And what was it you did before all of this?"

She glared to him, but glanced down as he questioned her past.

"I… I worked as handmaid. It gave me enough time to continue with my studies."

"And, the woman you served, she agreed with how you spent your free time?"

"No. Hence her eagerness to report me as a witch," Carina looked away shamefully at the word. "We no longer live in such bleak times as the 1500s. The world is changing. And if the seas can part to reveal some sort of… _magical_ trident," she shook her head at the thought, "then I think a woman could bloody well attend university and study science!"

"Here, here!" declared Henry, getting a slight smirk from her. He smiled to her then, noticing the blush on her cheeks, something that always seemed to betray her.

"But… where will you go now, Miss Barbossa?"

She grinned to him and felt warmth hearing the name of her father.

"I don't know, Mister Turner. I suppose it depends upon the whim of the Captain. Whoever he may be," she said, glancing to Gibbs as he took the wheel.

Henry smirked, once again inspiring curiosity from Carina.

"Do you think you could remember anything your mother told you about my father? He seems to be old friends with Jack."

"Aye," said Henry, "Barbossa was in a few of her stories. You see, he kidnapped my mum when she was probably my age. She possessed a cursed Aztec coin that he needed to lift a spell that vexed him and his men! And what a vex it was! She said they turned into skeletons in the moonlight!"

Carina eyed him as if he were mad.

"On second thought, perhaps it's all the better if I don't know."

Henry laughed, looking back out to the sea. And then, he squinted, hardly believing what his eyes had fallen upon. There, in the misty distance, was a distinct hint of land consisting of three particular mountains.

He began to laugh madly as Carina looked to him oddly.

" _What?!_ What is it, you daft loon?"

"Look!" he proclaimed, stretching out a finger and leaning closely to her.

She squinted her eyes as well, though she was unable to make out the land mass.

"I don't see anything!"

He looked to her with a cocky smirk.

"Aye, I have a sailor's eye. I can spot land from three hundred miles away!"

"Land?!" she gasped looking to him, and suddenly realizing how close he was.

He glanced a bit lower to her lips before making a breathy laugh.

"Not just land, Carina. Home."

With that, he turned to Captain Gibbs and proclaimed he knew just where they were.

* * *

Jack withered in pain on his cot, sweat gathering at his brow.

Henry had entered the Captain's chamber as a worried Gibbs called him in.

"What could it be?" cried Gibbs, "Understandably, the man has many diseases. But I've never seen him look so near to death!"

Henry looked him over before noticing a dark stain just over his chest. He pushed aside his coat and then ripped open his shirt to find a gushing wound, slicing across his chest. His eyes widened at the sight and Gibbs' mouth fell agape.

"It's no disease," answered the young man. "He was injured below in the fight. And I'm surprised it's not worse."

"Not worse?! He'll die if no one attends to that! And our horse doctor jumped ship months ago!"

"That's why we need to sail for Saint James Parish. We can seek help there."

Gibbs pulled a face of foreboding, "Son, did we not just discuss this on deck?! We are pirates! On one of the most notorious ships in the Caribbean!"

"One of the most notorious ships that has not sailed in near 10 years by a Captain most think is dead!"

Gibbs raised a brow, figuring the young man had a point.

"Believe me, the port was once popular in the slave trade, but after it burnt down, it never became as populated. By merchants, anyway. We can dock and go unseen for weeks!"

"And you're willing to bet your life on that?"

Henry shrugged, "I'm willing to bet his life on it. Besides, once I'm on land I was hoping… I could…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

Gibbs frowned, "What is it, son?"

"Nothing. Just a foolish hope."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time for those later! Let's first try and cease this man's bleeding."

He shoved a green bottle in Henry's hand before ripping a segment of the young man's shirt. He handed the long piece of fabric to Henry who stared to him in confusion.

"What in the-"

"Right," began Gibbs, heading for the door. "You tend to him and I'll ready the crew for port!"

Henry nodded to the replacement Captain before looking hopelessly back to Jack.

"Well, Captain." he said with a shaky sigh, examining the bottle of alcohol. "You're going to hate me even more after this."

* * *

Hours passed as Gibbs tediously directed the Black Pearl around coral cliffs and the eyes of lookouts on the bay.

And, just at the setting of the sun, he successfully dropped anchor off the coast of the of the island. It looked to be a ghost town, just as Henry had described. He produced a telescope and examined an abandoned tower looking over the wilderness of the unsettled coast.

"Land ho!" he exclaimed, the crew echoing a similar shout.

Carina awoke from a nap she had taken below deck. After spending a tireless night searching for the Trident, she was all but ready to paddle a longboat to shore.

All though, the thought of starting a new life thrilled her. In Saint James Parish, she was far from the familiar and judgmental eyes of her former village. She fantasized about living near a school that offered education to women. She even began to ponder a new identity, perhaps a forlorn widow to a wealthy businessman, or a daughter to a proper philosopher! Though, it was then that her heart ached with the recent loss of her true father.

She did not know much about Barbossa, besides the fact that he had been the most successful pirate to sail the sea.

And, even if he were not an honest man of society, or even that good of a man, he still carried himself with an air of great importance. She desperately wished that she would inherit the same assured sense of self.

Carina grabbed the small book she had been totting around since birth and headed above deck. There, she was met with the awe-inspiring sight of the sunset behind lush green mountains reflecting in a beautiful turquoise water. It was Jamaica, and more than that, it was a free village in Jamaica, still under English rule.

She watched as Henry exited the Captain's quarters, his hands and shirt bloodied. Her face grew pale as she looked to him, examining him for bodily wounds before realizing it was not his blood.

"It's Jack," he said regrettably, "and it's a bad wound. I only hope he can get help tonight."

She scoffed once more, and looked back to the island as Henry grew quiet at the sight.

"So then, this is from where you hail?" she questioned, with her usual indifferent tone.

He smirked, "Aye. And do you know what the good news is?"

"What? Your butler is out waiting for you?"

He laughed, "No, but me mum is. And she might have something more to tell you about your father."

He walked by her, carrying his head a bit higher as she gawked to him.


	2. hurricane

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! I usually answer them here in the author's note. I hope this can live up to your expectations, though I'm still not certain how long it's going to be. Oh well, I'll figure it out. (Btw, take a shot every time Elizabeth is just Scarlett O'Hara). Onwarad~

* * *

 _2 . hurricane_

* * *

Elizabeth Swann steadied herself as her handmaid pulled the laces of her corset tight around her torso. She winced a bit but ordered the maid to tighten the garment.

"Are ye sure, milady?" she asked timidly.

Elizabeth took strong hold of her bed post.

"Yes," she answered before taking a deep breath. "I'm having women over tonight that wear these every day. How hard could it be?"

The scene gave her a sense of familiarity. As did the new waist sliming underwear she had acquired from France. The latest fashion was not complete without an abnormally pinched middle, and tonight, she was willing to do anything she could to appear as the image of perfection.

For reasons that did not consist of inflating her own ego, she had decided to throw an elaborate dinner party. And, once she was dressed in a new blue velvet evening gown, she had begun to welcome her guests.

She had invited lords and ladies from around the village. Including, a certain man she waited for with baited breath. A man that could hold the key for her son's future. His attendance was paramount, and possibly, the only she was throwing the gallant event at all.

The party was welcomed with platters of food and glasses of wine as they entered the study; a showy room consisting of grand couches, chairs, and a lavish fireplace.

As the crowd began to socialize, Elizabeth found herself entertaining Miss Holly Bedford and her snobbish mother, Lady Bedford. They were a part of a local family that lived nearby. Elizabeth found Lord and Lady Bedford to be more nosey than compatible, but she was not presently in the position to be unsociable.

The three spoke idly of the changing world and the newly formed United States of America, including the ghastly defeat the British had faced.

"It is a terrible loss for the world," began the mother, "that the English are not the ones heading it."

"And what makes you think they ever were?" questioned Elizabeth, getting a smirk from the daughter.

Lady Bedford narrowed her brow, "Nations have bent to the whim of our King for centuries!"

"Perhaps now he must learn to bend to theirs," stated Elizabeth, sipping her drink and placing a hand over her abdomen, where the stiff corset was squeezing her the most.

Lady Bedford shuddered at the thought and went on, bringing up the next subject she found wrong with the world.

Elizabeth only rolled her eyes as she pattered on of plantations, marriages, and a loss of the 'old ways'. All though, the once Pirate King often kept her mouth shut on such social topics. If she slipped, and uttered the wrong phrase, her supposed identity among the social elite would be destroyed. Obviously, the title she had acquired was not one she cared for. She only worried for the future of her son, and his life, if she were to fail.

"Elizabeth, darling," began Holly's gentle voice, "I'm afraid you're still a mystery to us, even after all these years."

"Agreed!" butted in Lady Bedford, "Why, I hardly know the first thing about your past. Where you came from, where you were brought up, or even, whom your husband was…"

Elizabeth forced a smile to the two women, "Really? I feel as though I've said it a hundred times before…"

The women looked to each other in confusion.

"No," began the younger, "not a whisper since you've stepped foot in Saint James Parish. You're making our fantasies run wild, I'm afraid."

"And that is how rumors begin," added Lady Bedford, a darker tone in her voice.

Elizabeth eyed them, "Well… that is because my past is something I don't wish to revisit. You see, my husband- Mister Turner, he died in London just a week after we married. He left me his fortune and I traveled across the sea for a new life."

Lady Bedford raised a judgment brow but Elizabeth continued.

"I had my son and I found this manner, and then decided to begin the farm. Thankfully, my husband was a merchant sailor and had introduced me to the right people before dying. And it is to him that I am attribute the success of my business."

"Isn't that just… pitiful," bitterly answered Lady Bedford. Though, Holly offered Elizabeth her hand in condolence.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. How sad you had the raise Mister Turner on your own. But look at all you've accomplished. The most successful business in Saint James Parish!"

Elizabeth smiled to the young woman, graciously accepting her praise.

"Thank you. I only hope Mister Turner arrives back home safe and sound after his latest voyage."

Lady Bedford looked away, visibly put off by the thought of young man's work as a ragged sailor.

"I'm sure he will," replied Holly, "and when he does, we must have him over for dinner as a guest."

Elizabeth nodded to the young woman. Holly was certainly attractive, with black wavy hair and curly bangs that framed her pleasant blue eyes. She was only two years younger than Henry, and though and she was smitten with him, Henry was not as taken by her. He resented upper class society almost as much as Elizabeth.

But Elizabeth did not dislike Holly. Oddly, she reminded her of her younger self.

"I'm sure he would be pleased to accept the invitation," said Elizabeth as Lady Bedford eyed her.

"And when is he expected back?" she asked.

"About two weeks, if all goes as planned."

The older woman sneered, "That's just the thing. Things never seem to go as planned at sea. All those storms and rough seas! Not to mention the risk of running into thieves… or worse, pirates!"

Elizabeth glanced up to her, desperately trying to not smirk.

* * *

"I'm warning ye, boy!" began Gibbs to Henry as Jack was lowered into a longboat. Carina sat in the boat waiting impatiently, grimacing at the injured Jack who was laid before her.

"At the slightest hint of trouble," Gibbs went on, "we won't hesitate to make our leave."

Henry narrowed his brow, "But… he's your Captain?"

Gibbs shrugged, "Pirates."

Henry nodded, as if suddenly remembering the off-color morals of the men of the Black Pearl.

"As I said, if we're not back by midnight, Jack Sparrow is a dead man, and you have my permission to leave."

Gibbs nodded and Henry was about to leave when the new Captain stopped him.

"Oh, and boy?"

"Yes?" asked Henry.

Gibbs looked to him wistfully, still feeling as though young Will Turner was staring back to him instead of a plain stranger.

"If you're anything like your parents… then you're a good man. When you see your mother again, would you tell her she's still in me prayers?"

Henry hesitantly nodded. He was befuddled on how Gibbs would know his mother.

"And… your father," added Gibbs. "If you see him… well, even if ye don't, I was always sorry how things turned out for him. He was good. He didn't deserve what the world gave him."

Henry wanted to ask Gibbs how he knew both his parents, but, he was reminded that Jack Sparrow was dying in a longboat. There was no time for storytelling.

Instead, Henry saluted Gibbs and thanked him before descending over the deck to the small boat waiting below.

Henry and Carina grabbed an oar and began to row to shore. Jack lay between them, still somewhere between death and maddening consciousness.

Carina watched as the Black Pearl shrunk into the distance and they were pulled closer to the looming island.

"Won't your mother be a bit… bothered?" she asked over her shoulder.

"By what?" asked Henry.

"The bloody unconscious drunkard pirate! What else?!"

Henry glanced to her, "Perhaps the bloody irritating shrewd witch?"

She smiled, hearing the sly smirk in his voice.

"You know… that joke is getting rather tired," she pointed out to him and he nodded.

"Sorry, I think I have my father's humor. I never thought of him as funny…"

"So," continued Carina, "you don't think your mother is going to care that you've dragged a man like Jack Sparrow home?"

Henry frowned, "Actually, I haven't quite thought about it…"

It was then that he remembered what Jack had asked him when they first met. How he had been confident in the fact that Elizabeth Swann often spoke of him.

Of course, Henry was aware his mother knew _of_ Jack. But she knew _of_ many pirates. She never divulged any information that would suggest they were acquainted… let alone _closely_ acquainted.

Ane, with each tiring pull of his oar, his plan seemed less and less certain.

After all, there was that odd dream he had so many times, where his father had forbidden him from seeking out Jack Sparrow…

Either way, he put on an assured front for Carina and carried on. Besides, maybe Elizabeth would be happy to see an old friend?

* * *

After what felt like an eternity of small talk about the weather, engagements, and the latest fashions, a man was announced to the party and Elizabeth took instant notice.

She stood upon hearing his name and tried as casually as she could to dash over to meet him.

As he looked around the room and asked a footman for a drink, she quickly welcomed him to her home and he courteously thanked her.

"Sir Fowler, I hope I can steal a moment of your time," she began with as charming a smile she could muster. "I'm so eager to speak with you."

The older man looked to her with his own smile. He was tall with white hair and small glasses. He seemed friendly though he his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.

"I hope you do!" he answered with laugh, "I did not travel from New Jersey to Jamaica for a sip of Chardonnay. Though it is fine," he said, raising his glass.

"Of course," she answered, feeling as though she already said the wrong words. "And I'm so glad I've caught you on one of your journeys to our humble port. I've heard you're a rather… educated man."

"That's one way to put it. But you're far too modest about yourself. I've been eager as well, you know, to meet the woman behind Swann and Sparrow Farm."

She made a breathy laugh, "I'm rather shy, I'm afraid. I don't count myself as interesting enough party conversation."

"Pity," he said, walking with her toward a towering fireplace, "I was hoping to perhaps learn of your wicked secrets on success."

"Again, I must disappoint you. I don't think I have any wicked secrets."

The man raised a brow, getting an odd sense she was lying through her teeth.

She giggled to him, perhaps having too much wine to calm her nerves. And, it was then that she was reminded of why she had invited him to her gathering to begin with.

"You see, I was hoping to speak to you of my son. His name is Henry Tuner and he's a promising young man. He takes after my bookish interests, but unfortunately, my worldly curiosities as well! You see, he's run away to join a crew. A respectable crew," she quickly added. "And he's steadily working his way up the ladder, so to speak."

"Oh? Jolly good. The world is always in need of practical men."

She frowned at his optimistically American accent.

"But he's more than just practical, he's gifted. And… well, I don't want him to waste his mind toiling at sea."

"Why ever not? The ocean is full of respectable men."

"As well as disrespectful men, if you catch my meaning."

He took another swig from his drink, eyeing her closely.

"I do."

"And, well, I've done a lot of proper voyaging myself," she continued. "The sea has brought me nothing but… bad memories. I don't want that for him. I want him to go to college and have a rich life."

"But what does _he_ want?"

She thought for a long moment, he eyes falling to the floor.

"He wants what he can't have. I suppose, he got that from me as well."

He looked to her oddly and she cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I said that."

He presumed his same smile, "You're an interesting woman, Lady Turner. And I have no doubt your son is just as captivating."

"He is. And that is why he would be a fine edition to your college, sir."

The man frowned. Realizing why he had been invited after all.

* * *

Henry heaved Jack out of a hay filled wagon after they had battered a ride from a passing farmer.

Carina slipped the man a coin before looking to the stately Turner manor. The home towered against the murky sky of dusk as flickering touches lit the dirt path to the front door. It was a picturesque sight.

And, as Henry helped the partially roused Jack past the gate, she felt as though she were an ant being invited to Mount Olympus.

"You live here?" she asked, taking in the immaculate sight of the plantation style home.

"Yeah… what of it?" he asked with Jack's arm over his shoulder.

She looked to him with a frown, "I always thought you lived in some stable. I was only joking about the butler thing…"

Henry suddenly stumbled forward as Jack slipped back into his sleep.

"Gah, he's going out! Help me, we'll have to drag him to the front door."

"Wait!" cried Carina, turning around to see an opulent carriage about to pull into the entrance. "You have company!"

Henry frowned in bewilderment to the carriage.

"Quick," he whispered, "we'll hide in the garden!"

"Hide?!" she cried as Henry grabbed her hand, and the three ducked behind some foliage. They peeked from the shadows as the horses trotted past them and down the dirt path.

Henry squinted to see the carriage stop and a fancifully dressed woman step out as she was greeted by one of their servants.

"What's going on?" asked Carina, shoving Jack away as his head fell on top her chest.

Henry shook his head, "I'm not sure. But my mum despises that woman! She's not one to host hoity events!"

"Well, it looks as though she is. Hoity-toity, to be exact."

"Come on," said Henry. "We'll have to take him through the back!"

The pair stood and pulled up Jack, before dragging him to the direction of the house.

"Maybe if we took off his damn coat he'd way less!" panted Carina whilst tugging at his arm. "What's in his pockets? Bottles of rum?!"

"I wouldn't put it past him! We're almost there!"

After a strenuous struggle, Henry pushed through the back entrance of his home and the pair dragged Jack inside.

Carina looked around the space to notice they must have entered into the servant's hall. There was a large kitchen connecting to a dining hall with a long oaken table.

"Clear the counter!" cried Henry and Carina pushed aside plates and teacups, sending them shattering the floor. They hoisted Jack onto the surface and finally doubled over, catching their breath.

"What in the-"cried a servant, running into the room but pausing as she saw Henry. "Mister Turner!" she exclaimed, as though she had witnessed the devil himself. "You look bloody awful!"

"Please, forgive me!" wheezed Henry, "Mrs. Porter, this is my friend Carina and that's, uh, my other friend, Jack."

The old portly woman's face contorted in confusion a the sight.

"And this is Mrs. Porter," Henry continued, "our chef."

"Nice to meet you," said Carina with a small curtsey before glaring to Henry awkwardly.

"Pray tell," began Henry, walking by Jack to the servant, "why is mum hosting half this town, tonight?"

The woman shrugged, "I dunno. She said, ' _prepare for a feast fit for King George!'_ Don't know how she'd feel about 'im though…" she said, gesturing to Jack who was sprawled out over the table, a boot hanging over the edge.

"I don't think I really have time to explain… you see, he needs a doctor. Now."

The woman's eyes grew, "Doctor Mable's here. Her ladyship invited every prominent figure of Saint James Parish!"

"Convenient!" declared Carina sarcastically. Yet, Henry was hopeful.

"Jack's in luck!" he exclaimed, "I'll go and get my mother."

"Do ya really think that's a good idea?" cried Mrs. Porter. But it was too late, Henry was already bounding up the steps in the direction of the party.

Mrs. Porter looked back to Carina who forced a pleasant smile. The chef then glanced lower, to the moaning pirate.

"I imagine this is one of the odder sights you've encounter since working here?" asked Carina.

The older woman only laughed before retreating back to the kitchen.

* * *

Elizabeth had recovered her conversation with Mister Fowler, who was revealed to be the President of Kings College in New Jersey America. A promising school that boasted some of the sharpest minds of the new country.

Yet, just as the man was about to ask of Henry's previous tutoring, they were interrupted by the voice of Elizabeth's butler.

"Apologies, milady, but there is an urgent matter for you to attend to in the Fourier. Apparently, there is a guest waiting whom is not on the attendance list."

"Oh Emerson, can't you attend to it?" she asked with a polite smile. "I would hate to leave Mister Fowler in the middle of such a discussion."

"I'm sorry," added the gruff butler with a stern look in his eye, "but I cannot."

She frowned to the man and he replied with a certain look that was unmistakable to her. She caught his hint and nodded before apologizing to Fowler.

"Not a problem, Mrs. Turner," he replied, "I shall be here when you return," he said as she nodded, and made her leave from the room.

Though, as she walked toward the entrance of her home, she noticed not a soul was in sight. Only the whistling sound of the wind coming through the slightly opened door could be heard. And, just when she was about to walk back, an arm pulled her into the shadows of a dark room.

She yelped, stumbling into the room. And, just when she was about to reach beneath her skirts for her weapon, she was met eye to eye with her son.

"Henry!" she gasped, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Henry felt his heart swell with unexpected emotion. For once in his life, he felt as though he had a story to tell his mum she would be proud of. He sailed on a fabled pirate ship and befriended a great pirate captain. He had seen unexplainable happenings and broken a curse. Surely, that was enough to inspire her loving admiration.

Yet, in the next moment, Elizabeth pulled away from Henry and fiercely slapped him across the face.

He blinked, holding his stinging cheek in pain.

"What?!" he cried, "I've not even told you what I've done!"

"Oh, I know Henry Turner!" she cried. "You ran away from home _against_ my orders to join up with some sailors!"

"I left a note," he answered, ashamedly.

She fumed and had a good mind to slap him again.

Instead, she decided to scold him as the child she still saw him as.

"Honestly! If anything had happened to you, I don't know what I would have done! And could you live with that? The thought of your poor mother mourning you?"

Henry cocked his head, "Well.. I suppose I'd be dead… So… no?"

"Exactly!" she retorted. "You should be thankful to God nothing happened!"

"But, something _did_ happen!" he said, yearning for her to listen to him.

Her eyes grew a bit in fear. She had already sensed something was different about the young man. She took a step back, looking him over. It was then that she noticed the blood that splattered his clothes.

"My god!" she cried, clutching her chest where her corset was beginning to stifle the air from her lungs. "What happened?!"

"It's not mine… that's the thing I need to tell you. And, might I add, circumstance are rather urgent."

"What?" she asked breathlessly. "What are you talking about?!"

"I've gone on a remarkable adventure! And I've met some... people," he said, deciding it was a less alarming word, and not untrue. "One of them is hurt. So, I elected to take him ashore, I thought we could help."

Her brow knitted in worry. It was almost as if she could read his mind, or, the one name that burned in his mind. The thought sent her into a fit.

"What have you done?" she huffed, struggling to catch her breath as her heart raced. "I'll have you know I'm throwing this dinner party in _your_ honor. Mister Fowler from Kings College might even donate enough money to send you to college in America!"

"No, mum, you have to listen to me! I need the doctor. Now!" he repeated, grabbing her hand.

"I don't have time for this, Henry!" she said, swatting his grip away and turning to leave. "I'll expect you for dinner!"

Henry stepped forward, but stopped. And then, suddenly, he saw himself with only once choice; to exclaim the next words that came to mind.

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow… and he's frightfully injured. He needs your help!"

Elizabeth froze in her tracks.

"Oh my…" she gasped before collapsing in the doorway.


	3. fog

**A/N:** Thank you all for the reviews, alerts, and favs!

PirateCaptainJS; thanks for such a lovely review, mate! I had no idea Jack getting hurt in the fight was actually in the book! He clearly was thrown around but it didn't seem to bother him much in the movie… I've been shipping J/E since day one too! Those deleted scenes are everything.

Thank you for the reassuring words Simoneipad3! This is indeed a Sparrabeth fic, as the summary clearly states.

As you all might have noticed, I didn't put much thought into this at first and figured it might be a little one-shot. But, as usual, I've gotten carried away and have big plans for this story. Hope you all carry on with me!

* * *

 _3 . fog_

* * *

Carina sat with her arms crossed looking to Jack Sparrow as he laid on the table. As she resentfully stared to him, his head turned towards her. She sat up, noticing his small movement. It had been a fair amount of time since she had seen any sign of life from the ailing man.

She stood, and looked over him as he seemed to be suddenly coming to.

He blinked open his eyes and looked to her before shutting them again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

"Smyth… Shhmyth… tha doe'sound familiarr…" he murmured lowly, causing her to lean closer to him.

She frowned, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Well it should, Jack. That's my name… or, at least it was my name."

He chuckled, still seeming to be in some sort of dream-like state.

"Th'old fool thinks sh'loved 'im…" he laughed again, followed by a breathless cough. "Little di'he know… Margret Shmyth… she luved-"

He stopped, a frown pulling at his features as Carina's eyes grew in inquisitiveness. She knew that name well and had cursed it a thousand times before.

"What?" she gasped as he seemed to slip back into sleep. "No, Jack," she said, shaking his shoulder. "Don't fall asleep on me! Not the one time you've said something useful!""

"Mmm," he moaned, his head turning back away from her and his eyes closing. "G'night, luv. Iwas thinkning… in'th'morning… we'd'ave scungilli wit'tea…"

Carina firmly frowned and grabbed him by both shoulders.

"How do you know that name? Tell me, Jack Sparrow!" she shouted in anger, getting him to come blink back to partial alertness.

His eyes darted to her and he suddenly looked to her differently, as if just noticing she were there. He wearily raised a hand to grace her cheek. She grimaced, though a loving look in his eye made her question; was it really her whom he saw?

"I've missed y'Margaret…" he whispered roughly, speaking as though he were years in the past.

"N- no… I'm not Margaret," she corrected him, noticing he must be delirious with whatever was vexing him. "I'm Carina. Her… her daughter."

Jack smirked again, not seeming to hear her.

"It'sour ssecret, darrling… don' forget th'scungilli…"

Carina shook her head, "you've been hurt, Jack. And if _bloody_ Henry Turner doesn't get help soon-"

"Turner!" spat Jack before coughing and grabbing his head in pain. "Why… am I alwayslosin'ye women t'blasted Turners…?"

Carina sighed before sitting on the table and staring down to Jack as his head fell back.

* * *

Henry shook Elizabeth back to consciousness.

Her eyes blinked open to notice Henry's large worried ones staring down to her. She narrowed her brow, almost instantly reminded of the name he had uttered causing her to retreat into darkness.

And, she would have furtherly pressed her concerns on the issue, if another man had not been beside her. There, to her right, was the befuddled local doctor; Mr. Mable.

She glanced around to see she was lying on the floor as the men looked down to her. Each as useless as the other. She sighed before sitting up.

"There, there, milady," began Doctor Mable, a stout man with a round face and thick mustache. "Tis the stress of the evening, it is! Why, throwing a party on one's lonesome would inspire a fainting spell in the strongest of women!"

She moaned, shifting to her side. It was then the Doctor noticed something that made his eyes widen in surprise. Her skirts had moved to reveal a pistol that had fallen from its holster.

"Where did you get that?!" he cried.

She rolled her eyes and picked it up weapon, ignoring his surprise. Henry extended a hand to help her to her feet.

She glowered to him, as poisonously as a viper to a mouse, though took his hand and sprang to her feet.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked, looking to the Doctor.

"Not long at all," he answered, "your son here had the butler retrieve me."

She closed her eyes with a defeated sigh.

"One night… it was all I wanted…"

Henry urgently turned to the Doctor, reminded of the other medical crisis at hand.

"Now that I have you here," he began, "there is an urgent matter for you to attend to."

"And, what is that…?" he asked.

Henry looked to Elizabeth who shot him an exasperated glare.

He shrugged to her, as if asking if she had any better ideas.

Elizabeth looked to the Doctor, stepping closer to address him in a hushed tone.

"There is a man here, an old friend of mine. He is in dire need of a doctor, so I'm told. Please see to him," she looked to Henry. "Now, I have a dinner party to attend to."

"That is not wise, milady. You need rest," advised the Doctor. Though, he was speaking to the back of Elizabeth as he left the room and lifted her skirts, placing the pistol back in its holster around her garter.

* * *

Carina looked up from Jack as Henry and Doctor Mable sped into the room.

"What? Stop for a brandy?" she questioned acidly, moving to the side so the pair could examine the man.

"How is he?" cried Henry. "I came back as soon as I could!"

Carina raised a shoulder, "As well as he might be. But he's blathering on about nonsense."

"What happened to this man?!" exclaimed Mable, taking a step back after a few horrified moments of eyeing the pirate.

"He was in the wrong end of a nasty fight," said Henry.

"No!" he retorted, "Besides that! I've never seen a more ill-looking man in my entire career!"

"Well, he's got scabies, that's for certain," Henry answered.

"As well as dipsomania, I reckon," added Carina.

"Scurvy," said Henry discreetly.

"Did I mention a dependency on drink?" came Carina again, pulling a look of disgust.

The Doctor examined the makeshift tourniquet fastened around Jack's chest. He threw his coat off and rolled up his sleeves before pulling the bandage away.

His crinkled forehead furrowed to the sight.

"The wound is not fatal, though it does need to be sewn and cleaned. Did this man suffer a great blow, as well?"

"Aye," said Henry.

"Perhaps there is a head injury, then. Could explain his babbling."

"Actually," began Carina, "he's just sort of… like that… But… there is a… cough," she added, in her first nonjudgmental comment of the night. But, in the next moment, she assumed her same sense of aloofness with a toss of her hair and raise of her chin. "Might be nothing, though."

The Doctor looked to her uncertainly, "I'll see what I can do."

Henry nodded and Carina glanced to him.

He appeared a bit saddened by the pirate's plight. Though, as to why, she could not imagine. As far as she knew, Jack was a useless drunk. He smelled, was inevitably inebriated, and certainly past his prime. Though, she did admit she saw a spark of something interesting hidden in the man. But she was convinced any charm he once boasted was lost long ago. After all, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, the age of piracy had passed. And all great pirates had succumbed to the new world. In fact, the death of Barbossa may indeed have marked the fall of the last great pirate, successful enough to command a large frigate, and capable of going to toe-to-toe with a ship of the navy.

"What kept you?" Carina asked Henry, after realizing she had no words to console him. "Dear old mum not so enthralled by your reveal?"

"She was not," he exhaled. "Apparently, there's a man here tonight who's president to Kings College in America looking for some poor recruits."

Carina's mouth became unhinged as Henry shrugged in disappointment.

"My mum never agreed with my desire to sail the seas. She's been pushing a proper education on me since I could remember…"

Carina closed her mouth and feigned sympathy for his dilemma.

"How unfortunate, you say this man is upstairs?"

"Yes?"

"And his name is…?"

Henry thought for a moment, "Fowler, I believe she said. Why?"

"No reason," she answered with a smile, looking forward again.

The Doctor looked up to the pair, "It appears I have my work cut out for me. Son, why don't you run out back and call for my driver, Laurence. He'll give you my tools from my carriage."

Henry agreed and asked Carina if she would mind being left alone.

She pleasantly shook her head, "Not at all, now go! Not a moment to lose!"

Henry nodded before running off.

Carina subtly smiled to herself as thoughts of her future swirled around her mind.

The Doctor glanced up to her, "Are you sure you want to stay to witness this, Miss? It could get bloody. Don't want your womanly sensitivities to cause you to faint."

"Just what I was thinking myself, sir" answered Carina, already heading for the stairs, "I wouldn't want to burden you anyways!"

* * *

Elizabeth had found Fowler once more and they began to speak of Henry's educational potential.

Though, at first Fowler was a bit curious of Elizabeth's suddenly tousled appearance. He decided it was best to ignore the fact that her hair was no longer neatly combed, and hair dress lay crooked over her petticoats. Yet, her appearance caused his imagination to run wild.

"Henry is a skilled researcher, he's always reading," she said coolly, a new drink in her hand.

"Oh? And what topics interest him?"

She thought for a moment before answering carefully.

"… Folklore."

"Folklore? Oh yes, what an interesting subject…" he said, though his tone sounded disagreeable.

Elizabeth noticed.

"Among other things…" she quickly added, "and, he's still young, his educational interests are still developing."

"What are his other interests?"

She pursed her lips, her eyes darting to the side, "Why… he's very interested in the migration pattern of… the… Sparrow."

The man raised a brow.

* * *

Carina peaked around a hallway to notice a butler standing before the entrance of the gathering. She straightened her dress and held her shoulders back before attempting to waltz past him. Though, the butler Emerson was quick to stop her from her passing.

"Excuse me," he gruffly began as she glanced to him, "might I acquire a name as to properly announce you to the room?"

She only looked to him with a quizzical stare as he scrutinized her disheveled appearance.

"I shall need to know your name!" he repeated.

She frowned, raising her nose higher in the air.

"Smyth," she answered before realizing she was mistaken. "I mean- Barbossa. Miss Carina Barbossa. Practicing astronomer, skilled sailor, and horologist!"

He squinted to her as she steadily held his eye contact.

Finally, the butler shook his head, deciding he had dealt with enough maddening happenings for one evening. He turned to the room and she smiled, sauntering past him.

"Introducing Miss Carina Barbossa," Emerson declared to the party.

Elizabeth felt a jolt to the pit of her stomach. She seemed to go temporally deaf as Fowler carried on, and she could only find herself lost at the sound of that name…

 _Captain Barbossa…_

"Elizabeth? Is something that matter?" Fowler asked, causing her to blink to him and smile.

"Not at all," she said, meaning quite the opposite. "It's only…" she glanced away from him to witness the weathered looking young woman from the across the room.

Every eye in the crowd seemed to glimpse to her and whisper. They were scandalized by the fact that was unescorted, by her torn and watered stained skirts, and her unruly, matted, curly black hair.

Elizabeth watched as the odd woman as she was suddenly approached by Holy Bedford. She then forced herself to look back to Fowler.

"It's only I thought I knew that name…" she concluded with a dry laugh. "I must have been mistaken."

"My! What an interesting… look you have," began the unassuming voice of Holly Bedford, eyeing Carina from her hair down.

Carina stopped and looked to her, as if about ready to pick a fight in an alley.

"Look?" questioned Carina. "Well, I wasn't much worried about my appearance the last few days. You see, I've been at sea."

"Sea?!" cried Holly before shaking her head in astonishment. "My name is Holly Bedford, I live in the village over, at the Bedford plantation. I don't believe we've ever met before, though."

Carina frowned, "No, I don't think we would have."

Ignoring the younger woman, Carina glanced around the room. Holly laughed, perturbed by her antisocial behavior.

"But, my word! At sea, you say? Whatever for?"

Carina glanced back to her pert smile with an annoyed glare.

"Well… I've been accompanying Henry Turner," she stated plainly.

Holly looked to her, her smile dissipating in a moment.

" _What?"_

Carina suddenly realized she ought to watch her words more carefully.

"I mean- I bartered passage on the ship he occupied. And he invited me to… this… tonight!"

"He invited… _you?"_

"Yeah?"

"Oh…"

Carina looked away again, mumbling under her breath. _"Clearly, I am standing here..."_

"What?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly, "but, might I ask you if you know of a man named Fowler here?"

Holly frowned to Carina just as Elizabeth's voice was heard over the crowd.

"Might I announce; dinner is served!"

* * *

Jack lurched off the table as the Doctor poured alcohol over his wound.

"Gah! Won'ye torturouss leeches le'me be!" he exclaimed in his slurred speech.

"Hold him down boy! He seems to be coming out of his haze," said Doctor Mable, dabbing at his alcohol soaked cut.

Henry sneered at the sizzling wound, "I didn't have the salt to do that to him myself earlier…"

"Well, it seems you won't be a Doctor then, huh?"

"Where'n th'blazes am I?" asked Jack as Henry held him against the table. He looked up to the young man holding him down before frowning in confusion, "Who t'bloody hell areyouu?!"

"Don't worry, Jack," said Henry looking down to him with a relieved grin, "you're in good hands!"

"Whoos hands? Your hands? Where'm I…?"

"Turner manor," answered the Doctor, "and lucky you are!"

"Turner _what?!"_ Jack cried, struggling against Henry as the Doctor began to sew his wound shut.

Jack braced himself as the thread and needle pieced his skin. He hissed as a string of salty words and empty threats snaked past his lips.

The minutes passed as tedious as hours as sweat dripped from the weary Doctor's brow. Until, finally, Mable snipped the string and tied the stitch neatly. It was a straight suture that crossed over his left breast. Much straighter than any wound Jack had sewn himself with a bottle at hand to take the edge off the pain.

The discomfort had seemed to awaken Jack and he became more alert to what had transpired.

"Turner's manor you say?" looking to the ceiling.

Henry nodded, "Aye, my mother's farm…"

Jack winced, this time at a memory, instead of a bodily wound.

It was then that Henry remembered his mother's distraught reaction to Jack's name. He wondered, for a moment, if he should share it with Jack, but quickly thought better of it.

"That should about do it," said the Doctor, putting his tools back into his leather bag and grabbing his coat. "Keep the wound clean and it should be healed in time."

Jack raised his hand to his forehead, tightly closing his eyes. Mable stopped, taking notice.

"Here," said the Doctor, producing a medical looking glass bottle, "drink this!"

Jack looked to him, pulling a face at the sight of the emerald colored glass. He sat up on the table, inspecting down to the man.

"Normally…" he began, his lip twitching in apprehension, "I don't ask thi'question. But what exactly is it?"

"Well," laughed the man with a sound like gravel, "it sure as the devil ain't the tavern's finest swill!"

"It's stronger?" he asked, twitching his brow.

"Than anything you've experienced before! It'll be good for that…" Mable gestured a hand about his temple, "pain…"

"Give it here then, man! Me pain ain't gettin' no better!"

Jack snatched the bottle from the man and took a large swig. And then, he turned, spitting the concoction over Henry's tunic, some splattered bits reaching his face and arms.

"No!" Jack cried, his voice suddenly raspy, as Henry staggered back and grimaced down at his shirt. "Uck! What d'you call that shite?!"

"Ahh!" the man laughed, cheery as ever. "It's my own concoction! Beats any head pain there is!"

"What's in it?! Piss'n molasses?"

"Uh-uh-uh," said the man, waggling his finger, as if scolding a child, "now, that's a secret!"

Jack sniffed the bottle before turning his head and gagging theatrically.

Henry shook the excess spat medicine off his hands.

"You really had to spit it on _me?!"_

Jack looked back to Henry baffled, "What? Who are you?"

"Go ahead!" said the Doctor, getting Jack's attention again, "have another go at it. The second times much better than the first."

"And, if I'd rather feel pain?"

The Doctor lowered his glance to Jack. He knew if his head ache did not subside, serious injuring could remain.

"You've been drunk before, I take it?"

Jack raised a brow, "I'd have'a much harder time recalling if I were sober… before…"

"Right. Drink half of that and you'll experience…" the man hummed looking for a suitable word, "a sensation more pleasurable than that which ale could bring you."

Jack's interest was captured and he quickly closed his eyes and roughly swallowing a gulp.

The Doctor passed by Jack, taking Henry by the arm.

"Might I have a word with you, son? There'll be a few things I should tell you about his recovery."

"Go on," said Henry as the pair stopped at the door, their backs to Jack.

Meanwhile, Jack absentmindedly choked down the thick syrup, swung his boots over the counter, and staggered before finding his footing.

"Firstly, he needs bed rest. No alcohol and no physically challenging activates."

"Aye…" answered Henry.

"He's a broken rib, which will take weeks to fully heal. That was the culprit of the cough."

There was a long silence as Henry agreeably nodded.

"And… what would happen if he were to continue drinking?" Henry asked.

The man shrugged, "What would happen to any man who indulged himself in too much of a good thing; imminent doom!"

"I'll be sure to pass on the message," said Henry, sensing his own imminent doom.

"Good man. Thank the lovely Lady of the house for her kind hospitality, and I'll bid you a goodnight."

Henry obliged the Doctor as he pulled on his coat and passed through the door.

It was then Henry took a moment, leaning against the door. He suddenly felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He realized he had a strange loyalty to Jack. Perhaps it was all the stories he had heard of the man over the years. How, when people thought of him, a smirk came to their lips, whether they were aware of it or not… whether he owed them money or not.

Henry always wanted to know the man whose enemies even seemed to favor him.

And, even more, did he want to know the man who knew his father so well.

Henry assured himself that he had to see to it that Jack was back to his old self. Not because he particularly cared for the man yet, but for the simple the fact, that he wanted to keep the memory of his father alive.

Henry smiled then. _Damn… was mum going to be angry now…_

He turned around, "You hear that, Captain? Looks like you're to be on your best…"

His voice trailed off as he suddenly noticed Jack had disappeared from the room.

"… behavior…"

Henry looked over to notice the green bottle on the countertop. He picked it up and turned it upside down, noticing not a drop was left.


End file.
